I was driving along South Buona Vista Road on a Friday. I saw an elderly Chinese gentleman struggling to walk. He was ragged and very poorly. So I stopped at the side of the road, turned on my hazard lights and approached him.

He couldn’t speak English.

I was with someone who could. So she spoke to him and translated.

He was injured – scabs, limping, and smelling of alcohol. He had beers and empty beer cans in a supermarket type of plastic bag.

He was trying to get to a polyclinic. But all the cabs he hailed sailed pass him (I’m guessing because of how he looked).

I offered to give him a lift.

Just at that moment, a youngish (I’m guessing 30-something) Malay gentleman came up to us. He asked what was wrong. We explained.

He immediately took over. He said he worked at the National University Hospital. He advised me not to give the gentleman a lift to the polyclinic. He explained that if anything should happen along the way, I could be held liable.

But I insisted this man needs help.

The Malay gentleman completely took over. He reiterated he worked at NUH so he knew exactly what to do. He said he’d call an ambulance and wait with the man. He insisted we be on our way as he could handle this.

I thanked him for his kindness.

He then sheepishly admitted that he was on his way to the mosque when he noticed us. As he made his way to the mosque, he thought to himself, “What kind of Muslim am I to walk away from this?”

So he decided to turn around to help this man (and as it turned out, help us).

I am a Christian – a born-again one at that.

This man was the Good Samaritan. He is Muslim.

Luke 10:30-37:

Jesus said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. And by chance a priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise a Levite also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, who was on a journey, came upon him; and when he saw him, he felt compassion, and came to him and bandaged up his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them; and he put him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn and took care of him. On the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I return I will repay you.’ Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the robbers’ hands?” And he said, “The one who showed mercy toward him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do the same.

Why do I share this?

Because Philippians 4:8:

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

I love this. I’ve donated water already. I encourage you guys to do the same. It’s easy, it’s free, it’s meaningful. And yes, it’s legit.

What is it?

For every ten minutes you don’t touch your phone, UNICEF Tap Project donors and sponsors can fund one day of clean water for a child in need. This is subject to the pledged limits from the generous donors and sponsors. That’s it.

It’s not often I would admit liking a rebuke. Last night, I went to a dear friends’ place for dinner. They have 3 kids who are fond of me. I usually see them a few times a year. For a variety of reasons, I apparently hadn’t been over for the whole year.

As always, it was nice to be there. Before dinner, mommy and daddy called upon the 9-year-old daughter to say a prayer before the meal. This is how the prayer went:

Dear Lord, thank you for bringing Uncle DD back after more than a year (emphasis hers, not mine). Thank you for friends and family and this meal. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Ooops. Kena whack. I promised to be a more regular visitor in 2014.

But to be honest, being scolded in prayer never felt so good. Aw.

During dinner, she asked me when I was leaving to make sure I wasn’t going to eat and run. She later on thanked me a few times for coming. Yes, I stayed until after her bedtime. 🙂

Like this:

When I sit back and really think about Good Friday, it’s not a happy scene going on in my head. This is because I know that I was responsible for Good Friday. The verse that hits me on Good Friday is Isaiah 53:5.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.

I have replaced all collective pronouns (we, our, etc) to make real what Jesus did for me. I have bolded the changes so you know what I’ve changed.

But He was pierced through for my transgressions, He was crushed for my iniquities; The chastening for my well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging I am healed.

I am meant to be pierced, crushed, chastened and scourged for all eternity. Instead, He was pierced, crushed, chastened and scourged in my place. How can I not love this Man?

Good Friday.

The adjective used with this noun messes with my mind – Every. Single. Time.

Until I remind myself to see the adjective for Friday in the context of Sunday.

Amazing Grace.

Thank God for Easter Sunday. If not for Easter Sunday, I don’t think I can handle Good Friday.